


Fear and Devotion

by TheVulgarBookworm



Series: The Blood Triad [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lucius Wins, Anal Sex, Bestiality (Implied), Blood and Torture, Deepthroating, Evil Severus Snape, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Male Slash, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mind Games, Multi, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Sex, Severus Snape Lives, Sexual Slavery, Threesome - M/M/M, brutal sex, made to watch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVulgarBookworm/pseuds/TheVulgarBookworm
Summary: Six weeks after the war has been lost, Hermione and Harry are learning how their world has changed, and where their places in it lie.(Sequel to A Perfect Pet)





	Fear and Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct continuation/overlap with A Perfect Pet. Read that one first though. I got some requests to do the Harry/Severus side, and I never thought it would happen, but here it is! Turns out I had more to say about this universe, a lot more, and damn are parts of this story DARK. This story is mostly told from Lucius' perspective and a bit from Harry's. As such, it mostly follows Lucius around, because Harry has no insight into what makes Severus tick. I also found out what happened to Narcissa once I started writing this second part. I currently have no plans for a part three, but never say never, I guess. Let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions, throw them out there in the comments!

The first thing Harry heard was the familiar rhythmic scrape of a cauldron being stirred. The second thing he heard was a voice that, while infrequent, was not wholly unfamiliar.

“How many times is this now, old friend?” The disembodied voice came from far away, so far away, it felt like another lifetime. 

A short bark of cruel laughter accompanied the reply. “I've lost count.”

The voice, lilting aristocratic tones, sounded amused. “Kill him that often do you?”

Yes another lifetime, or several hundred and more. 

At eighty-three, he had stopped pleading for an end to his miserable existence, finally understanding that Severus Snape would never allow it to end. He would never let him go. At one hundred and twenty-six, Harry Potter had stopped counting too, and though neither of them realized it, it was when Snape had brought him back for the two hundred and twelfth time, that something inside Harry he had sworn never to lose did not come back with him. 

Fingers that didn't belong to Snape carded through his wild hair, then gripped hard, lifting his face for inspection. “He seems more docile than the last time I was here. Finally.”

“We each have our methods,” Snape answered, drawing near at last. 

“And clearly mine is better,” the voice replied smugly.

He felt a familiar hand smack him across the cheek, but could do little more than crack open his eyes for the briefest of moments. 

“ _ Rennervate,”  _ Snape hissed at him for what had to be the thousandth time. Harry instantly came awake, and found himself faced with Lucius Malfoy, still holding him by the hair, and Snape looking at him over Malfoy's shoulder, his wand arm lowering slowly, though his wand was not in his hand. Harry had discovered that Severus Snape was quite good at wandless magic. He wasn't on the slab, as Snape called it, any longer either. His arms were numb, secured to the top two beams of the cross at his back. His legs remained free from the ones at the bottom, this time, though he was too weak to lash out. He was always too weak.

“Then I am to assume your project is going well?” Snape continued conversationally.

Malfoy finally released him, resting his hand atop his serpent-headed cane with a chuckle. “Beautifully. Well ahead of schedule. She is certainly eager to please.” His smile broadened as his thoughts momentarily turned inward. “I will require more of that delectable concoction of yours, though. I don't wish to wean her off too soon.” 

Snape took a step forward, putting his arms around Malfoy, and his head on the other man's shoulder. “You arrived too early. It's still cooling.”

Malfoy turned his head a fraction to look at Snape. “Perhaps I came for more than one reason.” 

“Are you interested in playing with my toy at last?”

Malfoy laughed at the notion. “No, he reeks of fear.”

Snape’s black eyes bore into Harry, and he smiled. “I like his fear,” he whispered.

Malfoy reached up, running his fingers through Snape’s greasy black locks. Snape’s fingers brushed absently across Malfoy’s stomach. Harry had grown used to the sight, not that he enjoyed it much. In his new world, the display heralded nothing but excruciating pain.

“I prefer devotion, Severus. I prefer beautiful things, not soiled by our vile Lord. Has he been here recently?”

Snape nodded. “Last week.”

“Did he let the snake play?” Malfoy asked. His eyes wandered over the scars littering his body, no doubt searching for fang marks. He would be sorely disappointed. All of his scars came from Snape.

“He always lets it play,” Snape replied darkly, sharply, angered by the thought. His voice grudgingly softened once more. “It's well trained, though. I'll give it that.”

“What does it  _ do _ ?” Malfoy asked with a sneer of disgust. “I find myself strangely fascinated.”

Snape shrugged, allowing his hands to drop lower, and dip beneath the waistband of Malfoy’s trousers. He smirked. “You do seem fascinated. Tell him, Potter. What does our Lord do to you?”

He swallowed despite the pain. His throat was raw and bruised, and he croaked more than spoke, but he made himself do it. Harry had learned the hard way not to disobey a direct order from Snape.

“ _ Cruciatus. _ ” He coughed fitfully. 

“Yes, of course. What else?” Malfoy looked bored, even as Snape unbuttoned his trousers and took him in hand. 

“Buggers me while-” Harry dissolved into a coughing fit once more, and found himself unable to catch his breath. 

Snape pressed a kiss against Malfoy’s neck before whispering in his ear, “Our Lord buggers the boy while the snake asphyxiates him. I truly detest sharing my toy, but I must admit, thrusting down that throat as he is strangled is a rather sublime feeling.”

Malfoy moaned slightly at the thought as Snape's hands squeezed and stroked him. “If you detest sharing, why make me the offer?” he asked, his tone growing annoyed once more.

“There was little chance of you accepting. If that's the case, why wouldn't I?” 

Malfoy gripped Snape’s wrist tightly, forcing his hand to stop. He drew him around until Snape stood between them, and Malfoy was mostly blocked from Harry's view. 

“And what have you offered our Lord, Severus?” A note of accusation wormed its way into Malfoy’s voice. His hand came up to cup the back of Snape’s head possessively. “Has he sullied you as well?”

His hands came up to rest at Malfoy’s waist, and Snape bowed his head slightly. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low and deferential, indicating clearly his subservience to the other man. “You have nothing to fear, Lucius. I hold no interest for our Lord, nor have I ever. I am yours. Only yours.”

He lifted an eyebrow as his lip curled upward. “Forever?”

“Always.” Malfoy pulled Snape into a searing kiss, which Snape returned ardently, as if starved for affection. Looking back on his time at Hogwarts, and the way Snape had been treated by students and staff alike, he supposed that assessment was not too far off the mark.

Harry hated when Malfoy visited Snape. It was bad enough that Snape was vicious on his own, but Malfoy had a way of egging him on that truly brought Harry misery. To be fair, Malfoy never touched him, and he never told Snape what to do, not exactly, but  Snape always set out to impress him nonetheless.

Snape's coat and shirt were peeled from him as he kissed Malfoy back, revealing his pallid torso. Old, pale scars crisscrossed his back, not nearly so many as he had given Harry, and they didn't make him any more sympathetic. In fact, they only made the man less sympathetic in Harry's opinion. After all, he apparently knew firsthand the pain of abuse, but he chose to visit it upon him nonetheless.

Malfoy broke the kiss, pulling Snape close so that he could whisper in his ear, his eyes on Harry the entire time. “Why don't you play with him for me, Severus. Put on a good show. It's been a while, and I do so love to watch you work.”

Harry gulped as Snape turned his head and looked at him over his shoulder. He smiled cruelly and gave the other man a final kiss before stepping away from him. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

Lucius pulled up a chair as Severus moved towards the boy. He angled it, positioning himself just so, so that he could see both their faces perfectly. Witnessing the mad joy on Severus’ face was half the fun after all. He settled in to enjoy the ensuing show.

It still amazed him that a man who craved such tender affection from him could be so proficient and well versed in cruelty. His Severus, and he  _ was _ his, of that there was no doubt, was a study in contradictions. He was plain and brutal as Lucius himself was not, but beneath that snarky, dour exterior, lie an artist of the highest calibre. 

Severus had as much intelligence, talent, and raw power as he did. He was the best occlumens Lucius had ever met, aside from himself. His skill at potions and dark magic was unrivaled. Of course, Lucius would recruit him. To not have done so would have been foolish. He was Lucius’ dark mirror, the half that made him whole. It was why Lucius had chosen him to begin with.

It was why he had subtly manipulated the Dark Lord's decision that fateful night so long ago. At the time, Lucius had begun to wonder if Severus was slipping away from him, despite assurances he was not. He had always been far too attached to Lily Evans Potter for his liking, and he disliked the idea of Severus’ affections being stolen away. 

Severus belonged to him. 

He had made him and no one else could have him.

When Severus had put his bitch’s name forward as their third, Lucius had smiled winningly at the notion and fucked him senseless, all the while seething inside. Luckily Severus had misread his ire as lustful enthusiasm for the idea. While she had actually been a rather appropriate choice, Severus’ obsession could not be tolerated. He had put Severus off, seeing no immediate way around it. Later on, the prophecy had come along, providing the perfect opportunity to both rid himself of a problem and to bind Severus more closely to him. 

Voldemort, dull creature that he was, had easily taken the bait, ignoring the Longbottom boy entirely. And Dumbledore, great and wise wizard that he was, had made the fatal mistake of failing to protect the wretched family. Their mistakes had allowed Lucius to swoop in as a savior and offer Severus everything he hadn't known he'd wanted. 

It was a much longer and more convoluted path, his rise to power, than he had planned, but Lucius was a master at playing the long game, and anything worth having was worth the time it took to get it right. That concept, unfortunately, was something he had not managed to pass on to his son. 

He remembered the boy Severus had been when they had first met, a boy dismissed by all around him. He had been timid, beaten down, ostracized by his own, and Lucius contrasted that memory with the man he had molded him into with a well placed word in his ear at the right time. Severus had become his perfect soldier, loyal to a fault. Once he had promised Severus the boy currently bound to the cross before him, there had been no limit to the man's devotion. Lucius’ intended outcome had then became an inevitability, one that would be realized soon. 

Severus was the perfect example of why Lucius had always preferred to inspire devotion rather than fear. It was actually the one thing Dumbledore had gotten right.

Lucius watched his greatest creation drag the blade in twisting, winding patterns over Potter’s skin, the blood welling up to the surface to trickle down over too-pale flesh. He slipped off his robes and unbuttoned his shirt and watched the way Severus watched Potter’s face without ever looking in his eyes. Yes, the wizarding world's little hero, former, was the perfect tainted gift for a man with such a contradictory nature. He was the perfect substitute for a long dead witch Severus was still far too obsessed with and her long dead husband he still hated with an unquenchable fury. 

Through the son, Severus could torture James Potter to his heart’s content. Lucius recalled how the man had tormented his little Severus. He could, and did, kill him as often as he wanted, only to revive him and do it all over again. And Lily? He could have her as often as he wanted without ever truly having her. He could wallow in his obsession and remain loyal without question. 

Lucius considered that a win.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Harry grimaced at the initial discomfort as Snape lay the knife against his skin, pressing and twisting the point deeper before dragging it downward. He did his best to remain still under the blade, not that it would matter. He wasn't trying to be brave or stoic. He no longer cared about being strong. 

Harry cared about one thing only: giving Snape what he wanted. 

Snape wanted him to suffer. He wanted his pain. The problem for Harry was that Snape tortured him so much, he was mostly numb to it. Harry had reached the point where much of what Snape did to him barely registered. It made him cut deeper, twist the blade more viciously, just to get the reaction he desired. 

Harry had learned quickly that all of his crying and screaming under Snape’s control had no effect on gentling his hand. If he didn't do it, it was worse, but he never earned any sort of reward or consideration. With Snape there were no rewards to earn. And Merlin help him if he tried to fake it. He had done so once. 

Never again. 

He hadn't known it was possible to feel, and watch, every excruciating second of one's own dissection, or to feel every single second of being put back together.

That had been the final time Harry had counted coming back. Nothing after that had seemed to matter.

He could see Malfoy from the corner of his eye, lounging in his chair, practically laughing. Harry whimpered as the blade slid deeper. He could feel the blood dripping off his inner thigh to land on the floor. 

His eyes found Malfoy again. The man kept coming back, encouraging Snape. He didn't know why. He didn't know what the smug bastard was up to. He didn't know that it really mattered. 

Harry only wished for whatever ‘project’ Malfoy was working on to come to an end. If he had no project, he had no reason to come round. Without Malfoy watching, Snape's blade in his flesh was clinical and cold. His deaths felt detached as Snape used him like a test subject. When he performed for Malfoy, everything felt more intense and more personal.

He screamed, a blood-curdling shriek, as the knife plunged into his shoulder, pinning him to the wooden beam at his back.

“I suggest you pay attention, Potter, or I might lose my patience,” Snape murmured coldly. Harry tore his gaze away from Malfoy, frantically searching out his cruel master. He wasn’t even looking at him. His hand still grasped the handle of the knife in his shoulder, but he was turned away, in the process of retrieving an item from a nearby cart. Somehow he had known Harry’s attention had wandered elsewhere. Snape somehow always seemed to know. Harry groaned from the misery of the blade cutting into his nerve cluster. He blinked back the darkness creeping into his field of vision.  

Snape wouldn't tolerate him blacking out so soon.

He brought the object into view and Harry began to weep brokenly. He didn't plead though. He never pleaded. Not anymore.

“Do you think you'll be capable of remaining conscious, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes focused on the ten inch metal skewer held delicately in Snape's hand. He weighed his options. They were few. On the one hand, passing out brought merciful nothingness, if only for moments before Snape inevitably revived him. On the other, it tended to lengthen his sessions. Harry licked his dry lips. He really didn't want to be aware of every single second either.

“Answer me,” Snape snapped at him, a tilt of his head reminding Harry of years spent in the classroom. He answered hastily, realizing suddenly how much time had passed.

“No, Sir,” he breathed, not much else behind the two words but misery and resignation.

Snape looked amused as he brought a potion vial to Harry's lips. He drank it all down obediently, and ten seconds later cried out as Snape buried the skewer deep with a single harsh thrust below the clavicle of the opposite shoulder.

Snape had plenty of skewers and he varied his technique with each one. Harry screamed when Snape thrust it into him. Shallow, rapid breaths accompanied his miserable high-pitched groans whenever he worked one into his flesh centimeter by agonizing centimeter. And he sobbed and whimpered whenever Snape grasped one, pressing downward or pulling to the side, applying steady, unrelenting pressure against the entry point, and tearing at the wound. Snape often played with him like this for hours.

Malfoy was suddenly there again, and naked, his lips on Snape’s shoulder. One hand palmed Snape’s obvious bulge as the other wound its way across, around, and down Harry's chest, blazing a trail through the mass of metal rods carefully placed to avoid vital organs. His fingers smeared through the bloody trails on his stomach, sweeping downward to close around his soft, uninterested prick. 

Snape undid his own fly as he watched the other man paint red trails on Harry’s skin, and Malfoy’s hand dove inside to grasp what he found. He arched against the blonde behind him, mouth falling open in a gasp. Harry's eyelids began to flutter. His vision started to blur. The potion was wearing off. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Malfoy licking wet trails on Snape’s skin as Snape thrust wantonly into the hand playing with him. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

“Is he dead again?” Lucius asked when he wiggled one of the rods poking out of Harry's abdomen and garnered no response. 

“Not from this.” Severus released one of Potter's arms. It fell limp at his side. 

He plucked another item from the cart, a length of tubing and tied it tightly around Potter's upper arm. The needle followed, inserted carefully into the boy's flesh, and Severus depressed the plunger on the syringe, depositing its contents directly into the boy's bloodstream. 

He recognized this one as a blood replenishment potion. The first time he had seen Severus administer it in this way, he had been amazed. Severus released the tubing and waited. Bored once again by the lull in activity, Lucius began pushing Severus’ trousers off his hips. His erection sprang free, bobbing up and down. Lucius closed his hand around the meaty organ, watching the glide of Snape’s foreskin from over his shoulder as he fisted him with deliberate, teasing strokes. 

“Do you mind, Lucius?” Severus hissed in irritation. “I can't keep count with you doing that.”

“Nonsense,” Lucius murmured, squeezing harder and wringing a groan from his longtime partner in crime. “I know you too well to believe that.”

Severus began removing the skewers one by one, throwing them onto the cart with far less care than with which he removed them. At last, the boy hung by one wrist, a bloody mess, slumped and breathing shallowly.

Severus stepped up, reaching for the boy's bound wrist and looked back over his shoulder in irritation. “Were you just going to stand there, or do you mind assisting?”

“Oh, I suppose I could,” Lucius announced dramatically. Potter fell into his arms, heavy for such a slight, malnourished thing. Lucius pushed him away, back into Severus’ arms, and chuckled as he received a glare from his friend.

Severus carried Potter's limp form across the room to a small bed tucked into the corner. Lucius supposed that it actually wasn't terribly small, it just looked it compared to his own. He moved closer as Severus dropped Potter onto the mattress and stepped out of his trousers. 

They both stood looking down at the still form for a moment. Lucius sat on the bed next to the boy, his fingertips gliding gently across the bruised ring around his neck. The shallow breathing never changed. 

Severus’ quiet voice broke the stillness that had settled over the room. “If you wish to play, you need only say so. You're going to let me play with yours, after all.”

“It is tempting,” Lucius whispered, eyes riveted to the still, broken body. The potion had halted the bleeding, and even now the wounds were beginning to close.

“Our Lord may be vile, Lucius, but he is not diseased. You won't catch anything. Besides,” he murmured, dropping to his knees and pressing his lips to Lucius’ chest, “he's never taken the boy's throat.”

“And that's all it does? Just strangle him?” Lucius asked once more as Severus’ tongue moved over a nipple. Severus made a sound of affirmation and Lucius’ fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. He revelled in the feel of Severus’ talented mouth before speaking again.

“What does  _ he _ do with it?” Lucius pressed, unable to let his curiosity slide. The disgust was back on his face even as Severus’ fingers ringed the base of his cock.

“I don't know and I don't care to find out.” Severus dipped his head, swiping the flat of his tongue across Lucius’ weeping slit. 

“I could simulate it for you with a spell.” He swirled his tongue around the head as his gaze shifted meaningfully to where Lucius absently still fingered the ring of bruises. 

“It wouldn't be exact, but it would be close.” He swallowed Lucius’ cock down to the root, his throat constricting as he did so. 

Lucius hissed his pleasure at the feeling of Severus’ throat squeezing him deliciously, throwing his head back while his hands guided Severus’ head. There was no feeling quite like the way Severus swallowed him down, and Lucius thrust up into that all too willing throat. His pretty pet was close, but she wasn't quite there yet. He entertained the notion of taking the offering as Severus sucked him enthusiastically, holding him down with more force than was necessary. With a concentrated effort, Lucius pulled Severus off, his cock sliding free of Severus’ mouth with a filthy, wet smack before he could be driven over the edge.

“Perhaps another time,” Lucius groaned, breathing hard, and holding Severus at arms length. “I came to play with you, and to watch you play with him.” He pushed Severus in Potter's direction. 

Severus gave him a lingering glance before turning back to his toy, and settling between his legs. He pushed them up and back, exposing the puckered ring of muscle. The lubricant vial was in Lucius’ hand and he was tipping it over Severus’ fingers before he could say a word. 

He slicked the slippery potion over his cock, and pressed two fingers into Potter's tight hole, considerably less tight than the first time he had done so. Potter flinched but did not wake, but that didn't matter to Severus. He would do so soon enough. 

The minimal amount of preparation completed, Severus guided the head of his cock to the boy's slick entrance. With a last passionate kiss, he turned from Lucius and slammed inside the tight passage and Potter bucked beneath him, coming awake with a scream. 

Lucius could tell from the scream that the boy was torn. Severus’ hands were on the backs of Potter’s thighs, just behind his knees, pressing down as he brutalized him. Lucius didn't have to look down to know that thick rod, pistoning within the boy's loosening hole would be streaked red. He knew equally, that Severus wouldn't even notice, so intensely was he focused on the wide green eyes beneath him.  

Potter stared back as he had been trained to do. If not for the pain and fear reflected in those eyes, one might think they were simply enthusiastic lovers. Lucius knew better. His eyes flicked up to Severus’ eerily dark ones. He apparently did not, or perhaps he simply didn't care. There was more than strictly obsession trapped within Severus. There was anger there too. There was a part of Severus that wanted to punish Lily, for after all, not only had she ultimately chosen another, she had chosen the man who had been his tormentor.

Lucius smoothed a hand over Severus’ flank, listening to the animalistic grunts as he drove viciously into the boy, and moved behind him. He tipped the vial, the contents spilling over his fingers, and began preparing Severus, pressing inside with only a little more care than Severus had shown the boy. Severus Snape had always craved pain with his pleasure. 

Severus stilled momentarily as Lucius positioned himself, and only began to move once more when he was fully seated. His fingers bruised the pale flesh of Severus’ hips, and he fucked him with single-minded determination, heedless of any pain he caused the other man. 

Lucius had learned long ago that Severus liked being hurt almost as much as he liked inflicting pain. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

Hours later saw Lucius back in the manor, a fresh supply of Severus’ proprietary lust potion tucked safely into his jacket pocket. It wasn't that his pet truly needed it still, but he preferred to have it on hand in case she required its assistance. 

Lucius handed off his cloak to his personal elf, a more suitable replacement for that wretched Dobby. 

He sneered down at the timid creature. “Has my pet been prepared according to my instructions?”

“Yes, Master. If master wishes to refresh himself, a bath has been drawn as well.”

“That does sound most agreeable.” A rather suitable replacement indeed. “Is that everything?”

“The young master has informed me that he wished to join master for dinner.”

“I wonder what he could want,” Lucius mused aloud. His son had largely avoided him since the final battle. He actually couldn't remember the last time he had set foot in the manor. 

“Young master did not say, Sir. Does master wish to reply?”

Lucius considered refusing Draco's request, but he was curious, and that curiosity won out. “Tell him dinner will be served at eight o'clock sharp, and he is not to arrive late.” 

“Of course, Sir.”

“Send a tray of snacks to my rooms, and see to it that I am not disturbed until then.” With that, Lucius spun on his heel and headed for the main staircase.

When he entered his suite, everything was quiet. He moved further into the rooms, his footsteps swallowed by the thick carpet, and came to stand at the doorway, peering into his bedroom. The curtains, mostly drawn, allowed enough ambient light to filter in so that he could admire his pretty pet sprawled asleep in the middle of his bed. 

His cock twitched in interest, but he ignored it for the moment. A bath truly did sound agreeable, and he had no interest in dragging Potter's filth into his bed, no matter that he had scourgified himself already twice over. Cleansing himself now was more symbolic than anything. 

Lucius pushed away from the bedroom door and deposited the case of potion vials on the dresser before he entered the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him so as not to disturb her. He slipped out of his clothes and removed the stasis charm on the bath. The water immediately began to steam, gossamer tendrils licking off the surface. 

When he emerged from the ensuite bathroom forty minutes later, he was cleaned, dried, and relaxed. His pet, he was pleased to note, slept soundly still. He stood beside the bed, looking down on her, watching her ribs expand and contract with her deep, even breaths. From the bedside table, he plucked a few strawberries from the tray that had been delivered while he bathed, and popped them into his mouth one by one while he admired her sleeping form. 

As he chewed, he studied her, comparing her to his loyal soldier. If Severus was his greatest creation, it was only because his pet was still in the process of being shaped. Lucius had no doubt that she would claim that title once he finished molding her. She had something Severus lacked, something that strangely enough was reflected in the flesh. 

Purity.

Severus had come to him scarred, damaged nearly beyond repair. And while it had been the driving force that brought Severus to him, it was also that which kept him at arm's length. Severus’ scars, both physical and psychological, made him incapable of giving Lucius his love. There was no love left in Severus to give.

Only one person had ever had the chance of earning that from Severus, and that sliver of a chance was why he had been forced to get rid of her. Severus was little more than a possession to him, a tool to be used. He was far too damaged for Lucius to ever consider truly calling him his own. His beautiful pet, on the other hand, was unblemished. She had come to him pure and thus far, had known no hand but his own. If he could have kept her completely for himself, he would have, but allowing Severus use of her for one night was unavoidable. Lucius had decided already, after his first taste of her, that it would be the one and only time it ever happened. 

He retrieved a vial of lubricant from the dresser and withdrew the sheet from her body carefully. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, sighing, but stilled again as she settled. Lucius admired the smooth expanse of her back, practically salivated at the sight of her shapely legs, and felt himself stir to life as his eyes feasted on her perfectly rounded bottom. He climbed into bed with the utmost care, and settled on top of her, straddling one leg and moving the other gently outward. 

The vial fell from his hand, dropping onto the bed, unneeded for now, and Lucius ran his hands over her arse, thumbs sliding between her cheeks to spread them apart, and hold her open. She was beginning to stir beneath him, and without another thought, he lowered his head, and licked a wet trail over her pucker, feeling the muscle clench and release as his tongue passed over it. 

This was an act he would never dream of doing with Severus. He would never treat Severus like a lover. Severus couldn't give him what he wanted, and Lucius wanted everything. His pet would give him that. 

His tongue danced and swirled around her puckered ring and he couldn't help but grin at her little mewls of pleasure as she woke squirming under his touch. When he began to work the tip of his tongue inside, she tensed and tried to move away. 

Lucius held her still, his fingers digging into the flesh of her backside. “Pet…,” he growled in warning. 

She froze immediately. 

He gentled his touch, planting wet kisses to the reddening spots left by his fingers, and drew back to inspect them. She might possibly bruise for a day or two. He didn't particularly care for that. “We've been working towards this, pet. You're ready, and it's going to happen. Are you going to relax and enjoy it, or do I need to just take it from you?”

“I'm sorry, Master. It just feels strange.”

She sounded like she was on the verge of tears, so Lucius gentled his hands and voice further, caressing her soothingly, pulling her back from the edge of hysteria. “Then let me make it feel good.”

He was half tempted to give her another dose of Severus’ potion now, but she would need it later, and besides, this was something he wanted her to accept on her own. This was something he wanted her to crave in the future. When she nodded her head jerkily, and buried her face in the pillow, Lucius quickly re-positioned himself between her legs, and returned to his task before she could change her mind and begin struggling once more.

She clenched reflexively before making the concerted effort to relax, and then his tongue was forcing its way past the ring, and she was screaming into her pillow, and spreading her legs wider for him. 

He groaned as she began to squirm again, but this time she wasn't trying to get away from him. Her moans were muffled in the bedding as he tongued her open thoroughly, turning her grasping hole into a gaping, sloppy mess. Lucius groped blindly for the vial beside him, unstoppering it quickly and replaced his tongue with his slick fingers. 

He wanted to take his time, especially this first time, but he was rapidly losing his patience. The memory of being buried within Severus’ tight heat, drove him onward, and sped up his hand. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her squeeze him until he came. This was the last vestige of her innocence, and in mere moments she would be his completely. 

At last he could wait no longer. Lucius pulled his fingers from her, loving the way she whined at the loss, slicked his straining erection, and moved into position, his knees on either side of her hips. He pressed against her, the muscle ring gave way to allow him entrance, and he thrust inside, releasing a groan of satisfaction. 

She cried out and bucked, nearly dislodging him, and he felt her foot connect with his back before he got her thrashing under control. He pinned her hips to the bed with the weight of his body, waiting for the involuntary, rhythmic clenching around his cock to subside. When he no longer felt in danger of prematurely spending himself, Lucius began thrusting in and out of her slowly, holding her open, and watching his cock disappear and her body grasp at him as he reemerged. 

He was languid and unhurried in his lovemaking, though he would never say that word aloud, to anyone, but only because it could be used against him. As far as he was concerned, she belonged to him, and it was his right to use her however he saw fit, and if he wanted to make love to her, he would do so. Lucius thought it rather fortuitous that his pet was not the type to be broken through pain. 

Bellatrix had shown him that.

He slipped a hand beneath her, fingers working down the soft skin of her flat stomach until he found her clit. Her hands twisted in the sheets, and she ground against his fingers. She began to whimper, moving back and forth between his hand and his cock. 

Lucius pulled her hips back, jerking her towards him, and making her gasp. No longer in the mood to play, he picked up his pace. 

“Please, Master. I want to come for you,” she practically whined. 

He smiled wickedly, pleased with how quickly she learned. “Then touch yourself and come for me, pet.”

Her hand shot beneath her and fumbled for a moment, but soon enough he felt the telltale signs of her release. She clamped down around him, pulling his orgasm from him at last with a groan. When he had emptied himself inside her, Lucius withdrew and landed heavily on the bed next to her, sprawling out to catch his breath. 

When he looked over at her, she still hadn't moved. Her limbs shook with the effort of holding position after her climax, and Lucius toyed with the idea of seeing how long she could remain there. Instead, he leaned over, kissed her shoulder, and ran a hand down her back. 

“Well done, pet. I knew you could do it.”

She collapsed in a heap all at once with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Master.”

He pulled her to him, and she wrapped herself around him, snuggling up willingly. Lucius had not anticipated breaking her so quickly, despite his boasting. Barely six weeks and she already gazed at him every so often in ways he had thought would take months. He tucked an arm behind his head, and stroked her hair, basking in the glow of a thoroughly satisfying release. A glance downward revealed that she was dozing off again. With a smile, his fingers tightened, and he gently began guiding her lower. 

She started willingly enough, her mouth moving over his stomach in lazy caresses. He recognized the moment she realized what he had in mind because she began resisting, attempting to escape his grasp, and then her eyes popped open to lock on his. 

“Is something the matter, pet?” he asked with innocent concern, suppressing his wicked grin.

She shook her head minutely, casting about for the right words to express herself without insulting him by telling him that she didn't want to suck his cock. 

“Well then go ahead,” and he began pushing her head down again.

“No, please,” she begged, hoping to distract him. “Let me bathe you. Allow me to pamper you, Master.”

Lucius remained intentionally obtuse. “You’ll bathe me before dinner. Right now, you’re going to practice your skills.” He so enjoyed toying with her.

“But I’ve soiled you, Master,” she whispered, as though reluctant to reveal the source of her distress.

“You mean with your filthy little bum?” Lucius reached down to cup one globe of her rather shapely rear, his fingers sliding through the mess he had left behind.

She nodded, embarrassment staining her cheeks. “Perhaps I could practice something else right now. Some other way that I could please you…”

He brushed his thumb across her lips. “I did truly want your mouth, though…” He pretended to think for a moment and then cast a glance at the bedside table. “Bring me the bowl of strawberries.”

She scrambled to obey his command, fearful that he would suddenly change his mind. He took the bowl from her, and made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating that she should rejoin him on the bed. Lucius made a great show of selecting the perfect piece of fruit, watching her squirm out of the corner of his eye. 

“Were I inclined to grant such a request, to allow you to practice a different skill, I would be forgoing my own pleasure. You do understand this, don't you, pet?”

“Yes, Master. I understand.” Her shoulders dropped, sagging with her disappointment that she couldn't change his mind. Then he watched her posture change once more, and she took a deep breath through her nose. Her shoulders squared with determination as she resigned herself to her task.

“Let it never be said that I am not a generous master, pet.”

The change that came over her was immediate. Her eyes lit up with the wary glint of hope. Lucius smiled disarmingly at her, covering the smirk he held inside. She would do it eventually, and be grateful for the opportunity, but those seeds were planted now by letting her  _ think _ she could win some concessions from him and giving her reasons to feel grateful. What made it even better was that he had never even planned for her to go through with it. “I will wait until dinner, and I will have you then. Understood?”

She nodded her head eagerly, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. “Yes, thank you so much, Master.”

“For now, you can demonstrate how much you’ve learned these past weeks. Spread your legs. Come on your fingers. Put on a show for me, pet,” he said with a smile. Lucius made himself comfortable, as his pretty little pet obeyed his commands. She didn’t need to know who would be joining them for dinner, not until after Severus’ potion was flowing freely through her veins, and she had no thought in her head but to see him well-pleased. It would, after all, be her first public performance, and Lucius was only too willing to insure that she was relaxed for it. He prided himself on being a more generous master than Severus was.

\----------------------------------------------------------

“Nice of you to keep me waiting, father, considering you were the one who told  _ me _ to be on time,” Draco grumbled.

He had bounded out of his chair the moment Lucius appeared in the sitting room doorway. Lucius, however, was unconcerned by his progeny’s irritation. Draco was a weakling, taking too much after his mother's side, and if he proved to be a liability, Lucius had no qualms about trimming back the family tree and starting over, perhaps with his new pet. She had power within her. She would certainly be more obedient than Narcissa had been.

Lucius smiled indulgently at Draco, and stepped into the room. It wouldn't do to let on to his son that he was considering sending him the way of his mother. He would wait until after he assumed the mantle of the Dark Lord, though, before making that decision. There was no reason to rush things, and get ahead of himself.

“Yes, I do apologize, son. I was delayed.” Draco snorted derisively at that. Lucius didn't care. It wasn't any of his concern if Draco was irritated. Lucius had thoroughly enjoyed the reason for his delayed entrance: ensuring every single inch of his lovely pet was squeaky clean before leaving her to dress for dinner.

“Shall we then?” Lucius asked, gesturing toward the doorway with a forced smile. Draco rolled his eyes as he walked past, and Lucius had to suppress the nearly overwhelming urge to bash his son's skull into the door frame. 

He led the way to one of the smaller, informal dining rooms, seating Draco at his right hand, two spaces down rather than one. Draco’s eyes fell upon the cushion to the immediate right of Lucius’ chair, but he said nothing regarding it. Lucius took his seat at the head of the table, signaling to his staff that they should begin the dinner service.

“It's been some time since you've set foot in the manor. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Lucius asked as he raised his wine glass to his lips.

“I'm here about the rumors.” He glanced with disdain at the cushion. “Clearly they're true.”

“Yes, I'm sure I know what rumors you're referring to,” Lucius replied airily.

“How could you, father?” he yelled, slamming a hand against the tabletop. “Claiming a mudblood! How could you disgrace mother's memory like that?”

“I have my reasons,” he growled out with barely restrained civility.

“You've always said-”

“Are you protesting my choice of pet for ideological reasons or because you've always had your eye on her?” 

Draco sputtered incomprehensible nonsense in his anger, but Lucius continued as if he didn't hear. “Don't play dumb, Draco. Did you think I wouldn't notice how obsessed you were from the beginning? How much time you spent whining like a toddler about the girl?”

Lucius’ gaze shifted to the doorway, and he smiled slyly as his pet made her entrance.

“For fuck’s sake. She's not even collared,” Draco hissed as he followed the direction of his father's gaze. 

Lucius grinned. “She hasn't worn one since the day I claimed her. She doesn't need one.”

The potion was already affecting her, her eyes appearing glassy and dark with her growing lust as she took her place, kneeling on the cushion next to him, arranging her short skirt neatly, trying to pull it down far enough to cover her knees. A hopeless endeavour, as Lucius had made sure her specially tailored school uniform was much too short and much too small for her. He had dressed her specifically for their evening's guest. The skirt barely fell to mid thigh when standing, and the buttons on her blouse threatened to pop off with every breath she took. She glanced at Draco apprehensively despite the potion flooding her veins, and Lucius placed a calming hand atop her head. He began to pet her hair soothingly, and smiled as the tension in her shoulders faded and she relaxed, resting her head against his leg. Lucius continued petting her as he addressed Draco once more, in a low voice he knew she wasn’t paying any attention to.

“I know you covet my pet, Draco. Is that why you’ve come this evening? To try to talk me into giving her to you?”

“I came here to try and talk some sense into you,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what the other families are saying?”

“I don’t care what they are saying. If they have an issue with my poor, unwanted pet, they can address their concerns directly with me. She would have been sentenced to death if I hadn’t rescued her.”

“It’s what she deserved. Besides, that’s a lie. Pettigrew-”

“Pettigrew,” Lucius hissed angrily, “is not even worthy of the weasel he received, and being claimed by that creature  _ is  _ a death sentence.” He felt her flinch beneath his hand, but if it were from his obvious anger or his mention of the boy and his fate, Lucius neither knew nor cared. “I was always going to choose one of the three and I would have settled for nothing less. I wouldn’t  _ think _ of touching one of those red-haired blood-traitors, and I have no wish to share my prize with the Dark Lord or that foul beast of his. Who then, does that leave? Besides,” he looked down, drawing her gaze up to his with a finger under her chin, “I think it rather fitting. She is, after all, in her rightful place. Aren’t you, pet?”

Her voice had a dreamy quality to it from the potion’s effects, as though she were utterly entranced by him. “Yes, Master.”

Lucius smiled, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. She looked from Lucius to Draco and back, fear and shame warring on her features. “Yes, of course, Master. As you wish,” she murmured quietly, moving to stand.

She didn’t look at Draco as she moved toward him, and turned to lie face down on the dining table next to his chair, her feet hip-width apart.

“Wider, pet. Pull up your skirt. Show him what you have to offer me.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, turning her head to face away from Draco, toward Lucius’ place at the head of the table, but did as she was told. Her flinch at Draco’s indrawn breath when he realized she wasn’t wearing knickers was unmistakable. Lucius stood and moved behind her, caressing a hand possessively down over the round globe of her arse before him, and dipped his hand between her legs, smirking all the while at the obvious discomfort on Draco’s face. He pressed two fingers inside her, pleased both when she remained perfectly still for him, and when he withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal. 

“You can't deny that you want her. As much as she disgusts you, and she clearly does, you still want her. They can deny all they like, but they want her too.” Draco’s face scrunched up in disgust when Lucius held out his hand, shoving it beneath his nose, so that Draco could smell her on him. He laughed, and withdrew his hand, licking each of his fingers clean with a smack.

“Pet,” he barked out, addressing her once again though he didn't take his eyes off his son, “tell Draco what you are willing to do for me.”

“Anything you wish, Master.” His hand returned to stroke between her legs, and she did her best to contain her shudder of pleasure at his touch.

“If I decided to reward Draco, to let him fuck you right here and now where you lie, what would you do?”

“I would let Draco fuck me and offer no complaint.”

“And  _ if _ I decided to summon all the other Death Eaters? To show you off? To let them use you in any way they wish?”

“I would thank you for honoring me, Master,” she moaned, whimpering as his fingers brushed against that incredibly sensitive spot inside her, “and make certain I did not disappoint.”

“Now why would I want that?” he asked, his tone turning playfully cruel.

“My behavior reflects upon you, Master, and I would never seek to embarrass you.”

“An excellent answer, one that should be rewarded. Don't you think?”

She released a pleasurable cry as his fingers twisted, probing deeper, but didn't fall for the obvious trap. “Whatever you wish, Master.”

Lucius withdrew from her, pleased when she sobbed at the loss of his touch, and then trembled at what it meant. Clearly her desire was directed towards him alone. She had no wish for Draco to touch her. Severus had truly outdone himself. He would have to find a way to reward his loyal servant. Lucius moved back to the head of the table and relaxed into his chair. Her eyes remained locked on him. She would lie there, unmoving, looking to him for approval until he ordered otherwise. 

Lucius let her squirm, not physically, for she was perfectly still, but it was in her eyes, and she wasn't able to hide that. His gaze shifted surreptitiously to Draco, who was clearly looking at the slick shine of her arousal between her thighs with obvious interest. 

“I'm afraid Draco has yet to prove himself worthy of your attentions, pet.” He smirked at her evident relief. “Back in your place.”

She scrambled off the table as quickly as possible, unwittingly flashing Draco a better look than he had yet received, moving to kneel on her cushion beside his chair as the main course was set before them. Draco, clearly disappointed by his declaration, had yet to take his eyes off her.

“On second thought…” Lucius put dinner under a stasis spell as Draco’s eyes lit up. His son didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was adjusting himself under the table. 

“Draco deserves a little incentive, don’t you think? A reason to be considered worthy in the future?” he asked, his hand falling to rest against the back of her neck. She nodded jerkily in agreement with him, and Lucius smiled at her.

He gave an affectionate little squeeze, bending down to speak quietly to her, and drew her closer with the pressure he exerted on her neck. “Am I not a generous master, pet?”

Her eyes widened in understanding as his words sank in, and he released his hold on her, and sat up straight, pushing his chair back. “We did come to an agreement earlier. Did we not?”

She nodded, and there was no hesitation as she moved to kneel before him, or when she reached forward to unbutton his trousers, or when she began to stroke his cock to full attention. Lucius sighed when she placed a reverent, open-mouthed kiss on the tip of his cock, tonguing the slit, and swirling her tongue around the head, her eyes locked on his face the entire time. 

Draco cleared his throat loudly. “May I be excused, father?” he ground out, his voice indicating his obvious distress. 

“No you may not,” Lucius replied, and secured him with a binding hex for good measure. “Need I remind you that you invited yourself this evening knowing full well I'm in the middle of training?” 

He moved his hand to the back of her head, drawing her forward, and she opened her mouth to take him in. “You can sit there like a good boy until I'm done.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he silenced Draco too.

Lucius gently brushed the hair away from her face, sweeping it over her shoulder. “Turn your head, pet. This is a performance that needs to be seen,” he whispered to her, but his voice was loud enough in the quiet room. 

From the corner of his eye, Lucius saw Draco squirming in his seat in an attempt to break free as he caught sight of her face. Lucius knew how she must look with her lips stretched around his cock and her eyes staring up at him worshipfully. He quite enjoyed the sight from where he sat.

The suction as she bobbed her head in his lap, and the feeling of her tongue dancing along his shaft was exquisite. Lucius let her set the pace for a while, content to watch and enjoy her efforts. She had improved so much since he had claimed her, though he doubted he could ever forget that first atrocious attempt. They were a long way from her nearly vomiting on his cock, but she was not yet where he wanted her, not if she were going to perform in front of the Dark Lord.

Lucius pushed her head down farther, grunting as she choked on him, her eyes widening in sudden panic. 

“Relax,” he growled down at her. 

The tears streaming down her face only served to make him try to shove her down another centimeter and then another. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to push away from him. He held her down for a moment longer and then pulled her off his cock by the hair, holding her at arm's length while she composed herself.

Lucius brushed a tear from her cheek, and said, “You look good like this, pet. In your place. On your knees. Choking on my cock.” 

She moaned, licking her lips as he stroked himself right in front of her face. Lucius smiled at the sight she made. “And you'll continue to choke on it until you've learnt to take it. Now, open up wide. All the way down this time.”

Lucius took over control, guiding her head as he methodically worked her down towards the base of his shaft. A moment of initial distress, and then her nose was buried in his pubic hair, and her throat convulsed, bulging obscenely from the thick shaft lodged inside it. 

She blinked up at him with those big, brown eyes he was growing to love, her tears pricking at the corners, and Lucius withdrew from her mouth completely. The string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock to her bottom lip only served to drive his excitement higher. Her mouth hanging open obediently, waiting to be filled again as she panted, drawing in ragged breath, was too much for him to resist, and Lucius thrust in fully, grinding his pelvis against her face before pulling out once more. 

He did it over and over again, throat-fucking her languidly but thoroughly, determined to draw it out as long as possible. There was no sound in the room save for his low grunts of pleasure and the filthy, wet sound her throat made as it accepted him. Lucius looked down, past her swollen, stretched lips. The front of her shirt was soaked, see-through, her nipples dark and peaked beneath the fabric. She was so aroused, her hips making shallow thrusting motions, and yet somehow she refrained from touching herself, perhaps understanding that this demonstration, before an audience he had nearly forgotten about, was not about arousal, neither his nor especially hers. It was about power. He loved that his pet was so intelligent. Maybe he really would stop the contraception potion and see what happened. 

Lucius stilled, buried as deeply in her throat as possible, and she greedily swallowed down his seed as it flooded her throat. He milked every last drop into her willing mouth before he pulled out. She remained on her knees before him, a fucked out wreck still desperate to come.

“As you can see, I’m quite happy with her progress,” Lucius said to Draco as he played with her hair, and she nuzzled her cheek against his thigh. “And I'll give her up to no one. Certainly not after all the work I've put into her training.”

She mouthed along the length of his softened cock, kissing the tip reverently before tucking him away. “You may go now, Draco. Tell those who covet her that she is mine. Tell them that I will rise to the Dark Lord's challenge. What you've seen tonight is a fraction of what she'll give me.”

Lucius released Draco, who bolted out of his chair, knocking it over behind him. He stormed out of the room without a word, but not before Lucius spied the wet stain on the front of his pants. 

He waited a few minutes to address her, until he was certain that Draco had truly left the manor. She knelt between his sprawled legs, the perfect picture of need and debauchery. 

It was his pet who spoke first.

“Thank you, Master.” She didn't have to elaborate. He knew what she referred to.

“You know I will one day require such a performance from you? I will one day require you to pleasure another.” Sooner than she thought, actually. 

She nodded. “I know, Master. But it's not today?”

He smiled. “No, it's not today, pet. You are not a prize to be handed out lightly. And I won’t share you with just anyone.”

She offered a tremulous smile back. “And I thank you for that.”

Lucius stroked her face, examining the lust reflected in the depths of her brown orbs with interest. “You want to come for me again, don't you, pet?” he whispered and she nodded. 

“Take Draco’s place and I'll give you a good seeing to after dinner.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

Harry knelt at Snape’s side, his knees digging painfully into the stone beneath, not that he really noticed. Pain was all he knew these days, and Harry doubted he would ever be free of it. Malfoy glanced over at him, eyeing him critically from head to toe while he waited for Voldemort's orders.

“Remember what we discussed previously, Severus. You will refrain from marking her.” Malfoy’s voice carried a warning that was clearly not to be ignored, not that Snape ever disobeyed him.

Snape’s eyes traveled over Malfoy before following the direction of the man’s gaze. “If you treat your slave like a delicate little flower, it can't be helped if I bruise her.”

“Bruising is one thing and nearly unavoidable with you, but you will not go out of your way to do so, and you will not mark her permanently,” Snape began to protest, but Malfoy continued, cutting him off, “beyond what is necessary, that is.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, quirking his mouth in thought, but then deferred to Malfoy as he always did, before changing the subject. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?” he asked, drawing a potion from inside the pocket of his coat. “I brought the other.”

Malfoy plucked it from his fingers without pause. “My mind is made up. Draco has become a liability.”

“As his mother did?” Snape questioned insidiously. A sly grin from Malfoy was the only response Snape received. “You know how the other families will react to such news…”

Malfoy laughed this time, a short bark of sound, chilling for Malfoy’s confidence. “After tonight, do you really think the other families, combined, can oppose me?”

Snape clapped him on the back. “They will fall at your feet.” 

Malfoy downed the potion and tossed it back to Snape. “Congratulations are in order then, I suppose. I do recommend keeping this one on a short leash. Any child conceived tonight will be nearly as powerful as you will become.”

“Oh, I plan to. I won’t be making the same mistakes I made with Draco.” Malfoy’s gaze shifted to the stands, his eyes landing on the sullen form of his son.

“If I may make a request,” Snape broached cautiously. “I would like the boy. If you were amenable, that is.”

Malfoy’s gaze flicked back to Snape with renewed interest. “Is one toy not enough for you, Severus?”

“Well, I have plans for this one. I grow tired of seeing James Potter every time I look at him.” With that Snape shoved him into the dirt with the heel of his foot in disgust. Harry went sprawling and lay there quietly. “You don’t actually need Draco dead, just out of the way.”

“Hmm, I don’t really like the idea of you torturing someone who looks like me, old friend.”

“I can change him too.”

The Dark Lord was beginning to address the gathered crowd, and Malfoy responded to Snape one last time before stepping forward to join his lord. “You would have to guarantee that he could never again oppose me. I won’t give the other families a banner to rally around.”

“You have my word.”

“Then I’ll consider it,” he smiled, and moved away.

Snape looked down at Harry, still sprawled in the dirt. Harry paid his cruel master no mind. His eyes were locked on the figure of his best friend making her way to the center of the amphitheater. Snape looked at her and smiled cruelly. 

“Do you think she’ll save you, Potter?”

“Hermione is strong,” Harry answered with conviction, the most he had shown in months. “She’ll save us all.”

“The way I hear it, she’s so well-trained, she may as well be in love with him, but I’ll make you a deal, Potter. If she fights me, which she won’t, but let’s say she does, I won’t torture you one last time before I turn you.”

“And when she saves us-”

“Oh, that’s not happening, and just to be clear, I will be torturing you. I guarantee it.”


End file.
